Sun and Moon
by ThinksInWords
Summary: In the night before it all ends, the marble man leading the revolution and the disguised gamine find each other in desperation and frantic need. Birthday fic for Sabrina - rated M for a reason!


Sun and Moon

Summary: In the night before it all ends, the marble man leading the revolution and the disguised gamine find each other in desperation and frantic need.

This is all for Sabrina, who is turning 24 today, the 25th of June! She wanted 1832 smut on the barricade – so she's getting 1832 smut on the barricade – and a whole story about what happens next (DEATH!).

Don't kill me!

Also, I'm operating off the slight AU that there was no first attack at night, and that Javert ended up being right about the National Guard wanting to starve them out. Most of the gunpowder is left undamaged because they were not fighting when it rained, and it is evening on the day after Lamarque's funeral. Éponine still has the letter from Cosette (so Valjean is unaware of Marius) – and Javert is still a prisoner.

THE STORY!

She finds him alone, standing watch at the barricade while the others rest. He has taken on the night's watch duty with a grand speech that made his friends smile with hope, even though by all rights hope should be in short supply. They have been stuck behind the barricade for a little over a full day, and while the National Guard lies in wait, there has been no attack on them as of yet. Everyone is impatient and worried, and even the great leader of it all is not an exception to the rule.

Morale is high only because this Enjolras is making an effort to tell his friends that the people will rise to aid them, and that a free France is waiting for them. Those fools believe him – even her little brother believes – and she appears to be the only one who can see that this cannot end well for them.

Why she decides to confront him is beyond her – it is always a bad idea to get involved like this. Still, she finds him alone, pacing in front of the barricade and blocking her way out of this place. And she knows that she has to at least tell him.

"Where are your precious people now?" she asks him, fidgety and just wanting to leave this godforsaken barricade. "No one has risen, and no one has come to our aid. We will be slaughtered when they get tired of waiting us out."

She never wanted to be involved in his pathetic attempt at revolution – she wanted to protect Marius from any harm, and it is clear that his friend's actions are going to bring them all harm. She barely knows the students fighting alongside Marius – a few meetings in a backroom do not tell her more than their names and a few basic character traits – but she will not let them take her little brother into death and ruin with them.

"Have faith, mademoiselle," this Enjolras affects the voice of a strong leader, but she can easily spot the cracks in his façade. "The people will open their doors when the time comes. They will rise and aid us – and we will have a free and equal France."

The dark chuckle escapes from her before she can hold it in. This bourgeois boy and his dreams, they will never get to be free if the people do not rise – and she know that they will not, because she knows the people of Paris. She has walked these streets and she has robbed the rich so that she could live another day. She knows that these people will close their blinds as these schoolboys scream for help and die. The risk for their children is just too big for them to participate in something as dangerous as this.

"You are fooling yourself, monsieur," she spits out her words with malice.

They have found themselves face to face, screaming words in each other's faces behind the relative safety of the barricade – it is his turn to keep watch while the others rest and prepare their weapons once again. She thinks the National Guard means to wait them out – so that the history books will say that the students started it all. History books will always be written by the victors, after all.

"Then why are you here?" he asks, opening another button on his shirt.

The hollow of his throat has been completely naked for hours now – he had taken his cravat off within the first hour of waiting – but now he is revealing an amount of skin that would not be deemed appropriate in front of a woman. And for all of her faults, she is still a woman. It is curious that he still acts like this in front of her, with his chest heaving with his deep breaths and holding back from real anger.

"That is none of your concern," she holds her head high, staring in his eyes.

"Your precious Marius, perhaps?" he asks, dismissive of her feelings.

He has seen through her in ways that Monsieur Marius has yet to do, and it is hurtful how this Enjolras responds to it. Here she has this man who almost appears made of marble – features carved like one of them statues she has seen in pictures – and showing no emotion for people. He loves causes and countries, and she has yet to see him show love for a single person. While she cannot deny that he must love his friends, he is too busy making grand speeches to see the tears in the poet's eyes, or the frown lining the face of the man with glasses. He does not see that they fear to die.

"At least I keep my friends and family safe," she sneers at him.

She refuses to think of Azelma, shivering and dying in prison, but she thinks of Gavroche and the dapper coat that she stole for him when winter came. She thinks of bringing Marius back safely and in one piece. She has many plans in place to get her brother and her friend away from this place when the fighting starts.

"My friends made a choice to be here," he steps closer to her, voice raised.

"You and your pretty speeches convinced them to die for the new world," she keeps staring him in the eye, not afraid of his like. "The new world is not coming this day."

Every time she says something dismissive of his precious new world, he steps closer to her, trying to use his intimidating posture to make her agree with his opinions. She will never agree – this bourgeois boy has it all wrong, and while the vein in his neck might stand out in anger, she still will not back down. She will stand still and push him.

"This is your final night," she pushes him even further. "What will you do, Monsieur?"

He can only hope to see another night and another day – because when the National Guard comes, they will soon be overrun and killed. All of these schoolboys will die within a day, and she finds herself sad at that thought.

"Will you spend it with your friends?" she asks, standing close enough to reach for him.

When the few rays of sun hit his curls, she is struck by just how much his hair looks like spun gold, and how he would indeed be a perfect spokesperson for a brighter future. She herself is just a reminder of the darkness in this city and in people. She wishes she could be happy and pretty and clean – but this is never to be for her.

His face is red with fury, his eyes are narrowed and his brow is furrowed. He is the very picture of frustration and anger and she cannot help but antagonize him even more.

"You are lying to them," she cannot seem to stop talking.

"Who are you to talk of lies?" he yanks her cap off her head, and her hair falls down onto her shoulders in a tangled, dirty mess. "You come here, hiding and pretending you are a boy. Oh, Marius will not know it is you, I am sure. But you lie to all of us!"

Oh, they have gotten themselves into quite the situation. He may be commenting on her skill at hiding her real identity from him and his schoolboys – but she is not really listening to his words. She is much more focused on one particular drop of sweat that seems intent on making its way down his neck and into the deep V of his open shirt. The hairs on his chest are sparse, and she would blush at such a thing getting her attention at a time like this, if she had not gotten distracted at some of the noises coming from inside the café. She makes a desperate grab for her cap for fear of someone coming outside and discovering her real identity.

"No one is coming outside," he is actually laughing at her fear.

"Just like no one will come aid you in the morning," she really needs to lash out at his superiority and his haughty demeanor. "What will you do now, monsieur? You will fail and you will die – all of you will."

He glares at her, frustrated once again, and drops her cap.

"Wha-," her question is broken off by his mouth on hers.

His lips are soft but unyielding, and anything but gentle as he attempts to devour her. She wonders why she does not protest. By all rights she should push him off and go inside to spend more time with the other men who are also a day from death. She should be with her little brother, but she is in pain from Marius' rejection and she has always been a selfish girl. She will always be a selfish girl.

His skin is already slick with sweat and his jaw is locked tight. He is such an odd mix of tension and release that she only wants him more. She thinks she might make him lose himself for a little while, and she hopes to lose herself in him in return.

She is the one introducing a new element into their kiss, now battling with tongues as well as with lips and teeth. He pulls her ever closer, and his fingers will leave bruises that will long outlast him. He will be dead and she will bear the reminder of his fingers on her skin and his frantic need.

The frantic side of him shows in his wide-open eyes, darkening with something akin to lust as he attempts to take her in, disguise and all. He is still breathing hard as they keep getting closer to the barricade. It is not a very good hiding place, but it will do.

They will just have to be very quiet about this.

Each and every moan can be heard echoing on this empty barricade, and while it is not likely that the National Guard will hear them – she would rather not be interrupted by the schoolboys who will be shocked to find their leader with a woman.

Her fingers go to the fastenings on his trousers, already knowing what she will find there. His hardness throbs at her touch and he breaks away from their kiss to let out a groan that echoes over the silent barricade. It seems a sort of revenge for making him break the silence when his clever hands find their way under her shirt – her coat shrugged off long ago in the stifling June heat – and harshly tear at her bindings, almost making her lose her breath until the fabric falls to the floor in a tangled heap.

She takes a deep breath, knowing that her chest is heaving as much as his, before he pulls her closer for another war of teeth and tongues, one she participates in with relish.

The fight is in her blood just as much as it is in his, and there is no way that this bourgeois boy understands how she will fight tooth and nail for the things she wants – only she is starting to think that he will have no problem giving up his life for his revolution just as she will happily give her life for Marius.

But it is not Marius who presses her closer into him, large hands squeezing the globes of her ass and making the fabric of her clothing scrape against her sensitive skin. It is the man of marble. Nothing has felt like this, because her skin is tight and she aches for his soft hands and his rough grasp. Skin to skin is too much to ask already being as exposed as they are to the elements and the revolution lying in wait for them, and it would take too long because she still wants and wants.

When his hands find her unbound breasts, she almost pushes him away – her pebbled buds are much too sensitive for his soft fingers – but he continues to hold her close to him, giving her no chance to escape from the pleasure his hands bring. So she arches into his touch, until she realizes that she should not be letting him take the lead in this.

She is the daughter of a wolf and she will not let some boy make her lose her head, no matter how wonderful his hips feel against hers. They are both sweating and panting and wanting, but she will have him on his knees for her by the time she is through.

So her hand grasps his hard length – which stills his hands on her for a little while, until they move to unfasten her trousers. Yes, this is what she wants.

It is what she wants but she will do it her way or not at all, so she keeps her hand on his member for a bit longer, toying with him and grinning crookedly as his head falls back with a particular twist of her wrist. She wants him to forget about the surroundings, to forget that they are at war – she wants him to be so caught up in her that the revolution becomes a faraway thought. Tomorrow he will be gone and the revolution will be first and foremost in everyone's minds, except for in hers, because she will remember how she made the leader of the revolution moan and buck his hips into her.

She lets go of his hardness to undress. Her worn boots are kicked onto the muddy street and she only just manages to lower her pants before she is pushed against the barricade by the man who is still wearing most of his clothes.

There is a chair leg pressing into her left shoulder, and she keeps bumping her head against a part of a carriage, but the pain only seems to heighten her need.

Then, she pulls him into another kiss as he hauls her up and slowly impales her on his member. She feels her body trying to accommodate him, which is not made easy by his frantic hands grasping her bare behind in an attempt to push her even closer.

He fills her perfectly and she clenches around him in surprise. She does not do this often – does not want to take to the docks as a way of life – and getting to do this with someone who is not threatening her in any way is even more rare. She wants him and she is the one with the power, and she can hold this power over the leader of this little revolution. He is panting for her, frantic hands still trying to pull her closer as their hearts pound in unison. Still, he is not moving his hips yet – so she clenches again.

"Éponine," he mutters, almost pained.

"Move, pretty boy," she orders through gritted teeth.

It almost seems as if he does not know what to do, until he does pull out and slam back into her with a punishing thrust that almost takes her breath away. Her head hits something on the barricade when it snaps backwards, but the pain is merely a flash in the waves of pleasure rocking through her now that he has found a fast rhythm for his thrusts that strikes her bundle of nerves so deliciously that she really has to bite her lip hard so that she does not scream out obscenities into the silent night.

Their bodies might be touching, and it really does feel amazing, but he is still the bourgeois revolutionary and she is the gamine who does not want to be here. Even as he pounds into her and she attempts to keep him inside of her as long as she can, it still feels like frantic need and a last moment of bliss before the world ends.

She wants this boy and she needs him to make her live for one last time, because she knows that she is not making it out of this barricade. She gets that now – she will die protecting Marius or little Gavroche. They will not leave this revolution, and she will not leave this barricade without them. So the daughter of a wolf will be slaughtered.

"Oh," she is pulled back into the moment harshly when he pulls her closer for a kiss.

The kiss is all tongues and teeth, and while they ride ever closer to a peak together, the kiss muffles any and all sounds they might want to make. Making a sound could risk them getting caught, either by his friends or by the National Guard. Both options would end terribly for them, so she kisses him more fiercely.

All the sounds that are left are sounds of their bodies slapping together in their frenzied passion. All of her moans are swallowed by his mouth – she is just so close to her peak!

When one of his clever hands plays with her breasts, she slams over the edge with such a power that her vision blurs and fades for a little while – she feels him follow her almost immediately after, hands clenching tighter on her skin and mouth still on hers.

Then, Enjolras breaks away from the kiss and lets go of her, leaving her to unwrap her legs from his waist and to get down all by herself. His need appears to be over and now he appears to have no idea how to deal with her – he cannot even look her in the eyes as he slips out of her and pulls his trousers back up.

He just stands there, barely looking at her except for a few quick glances in her direction as she goes to find her missing pieces of clothing – the ones that are scattered everywhere around the barricade at this point. Her own trousers are nearby on the floor, and her boots are a few steps away from them and the barricade. And then her bindings are the furthest away, and she has to get those back on, quickly.

The trousers are easy to find and to put on, and the boots are comfortable enough when she puts them on her feet. The bindings are a completely different matter, because she will have to go right past Enjolras to get them and she might have to disrobe – or take off her shirt – to get them on properly. It might make things worse between them, but she has to take the risk. He has already seen most of her anyway.

She holds her head up high as she strides in the direction of her bindings – which also leads her back into his orbit. Still, she refuses to look down or to let him intimidate her, because she needs those bindings to keep from being discovered.

Her shirt is pulled up from her trousers to give her easier access to pull the bindings tight – it is a primitive corset, and she can bear that for as long as necessary. She will bear it until she dies, and she knows that death's greedy hands are coming for her, and that these cold hands will find her soon.

"Do you need help?" he asks, because he was raised as a gentleman.

Enjolras is blushing, cheeks turning red at the mere idea of helping her with her bindings when he was inside of her just minutes earlier. She finds it almost silly of him to be concerned about things like propriety after this has happened.

The bindings are almost easy to wrap around her body when she is focussing on making him as flustered as possible. He turns away from her several times, but still he stays outside as her protector and as her lover. The marble man is now her lover – and she will hold that secret in her heart for the rest of her days, beyond her life and right into her soul for eternity. He showed desperation, fragility, and strength.

"Where is my cap?" she asks then, since it is the last part of her disguise.

There is no response from him, so she just takes another look around and finds her cap a few steps away from the two of them – it had been hidden by his body. She basically pushes him aside in order to get to her cap before the next watch comes out and sees her as a gamine rather than a gamin. No one else can find out about her.

She yanks the cap on her head after putting her hair back up under it – she might be using a bit too much force, but she does not care about that. She is angry and she is scared of the day to come – her last day.

When one strand of hair escapes from her cap, she is surprised to find Enjolras in front of her, reaching out to push that lock of hair back under her cap. She looks into his eyes, and they are darkening again, showing that he wants her again, no matter what he is actually saying. So she leans in closer, because she'd like to have his lips on hers one last time, to make her forget her last day once again.

He leans in, she leans in, and they are getting ever closer to kissing. And then he stops.

The second he realizes what he is doing, though, he yanks his hand back so fast it looks as if touching her actually hurt him physically. His hand is still in the air, only further away, and he only drops it after she stares him down, her face a carefully blank mask.

"I, I need to wake up the next watch," he is actually stammering.

Seeing the leader of the revolution tripping over his words because of her is extremely intoxicating. She has some power over him now that she has become his lover, but there is simply no time to test this power. In her last hours, she does not want to play games with people, and she does not want to con anyone. She will live these last hours making her own choices with no eye for ways she can profit off these people.

Now that he has gone inside and left her on her own again, she starts letting herself feel again, and it turns out that her encounter with Enjolras has stirred a lot of emotions in her – she only lasts a little while before becoming overwhelmed by her feelings. She does not want to spend her last hours that way, so she pushing them down again.

"You can go inside now," the man named Feuilly has taken over the watch.

This is the man who makes the fans, the man who is not bourgeois and not a student, and still he continues to fight in this revolution with these boys.

"Oui monsieur," she uses a low voice to fool him.

A few deep breaths and a quick checking of her cap, and she is ready to go back inside to face her lover again. She hopes that Gavroche will not call her out on her deception. Her little brother is clever enough to see through any disguise.

She checks on Marius first, seeing him sleeping on his chair, mouth wide open and snoring softly. His freckles are not visible in the dimly lit room, but she sees them all – she knows his face well. He seems at peace, so she can move on to Gavroche, who actually sees her approach and grins with his crooked teeth. She motions for him to shush and go to sleep – but she also knows that boy will never listen to her.

When she finally goes to check on Enjolras, her lover, she finds him looking broken in one of the corners of the room. She wants to walk away from him and sit down next to Marius, taking her last chance to sleep by his side – but for some reason she cannot move away from Enjolras. He looks broken, with eyes still wide open and his body appearing to be curling in on itself. Enjolras actually looks _small_. He has never looked this much like a boy – and a boy who has no hope at that.

So she sinks down to the floor and she sits next to him, taking care not to sit close enough for their shoulders to actually touch. Now that they are inside, there must be no hints of anything going on between them – their previous activities must remain a secret to the others. She is not sure that she would ever associate with him if they were not both so sure that this was the last night of their lives. She would have continued to scoff at his pretty words and speeches, and he would continue to not see her.

Suddenly, his shoulder brushes hers and the current of chemistry going through her must be ignored in favor of staring at Marius sleeping. She has to remind herself that Marius is why she is here – she will do anything to save her Marius, even if he spouts words of love about another woman. She will be the one to save him. She will have that.

There is another shift when she feels a hand on her leg. She looks at Enjolras to find him dozing off and in serious danger of falling asleep on her shoulder. This does not inspire the kind of horror that it should inspire – him nodding off onto her shoulder only makes her feel a bit less scared about the little bit of future that they still have left.

When her eyes close as well, she has little thoughts of anything.

e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e

It is still relatively early when he wakes her up – most of the others are still asleep, except for the guy with the glasses, Combeferre, who is now standing watch at the barricade. There has been no sign yet of the National Guard, because Enjolras is still sitting next to her, and he still has a warm hand on her leg. He is actually looking at her with a determined look on his face, and she would worry about its meaning were it not that his eyes are focussed once more on her mouth.

"Hold still," he mutters, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

She indeed stills, and his hand moves to her jaw, finally pushing back the tendril of her hair that he did not dare to touch before they went to sleep. His hand only briefly touches her skin and her hair, but there is still a shiver running down her spine, and she cannot deny it. So she takes his hand in hers and leans in for a kiss.

Enjolras moves closer to her, but he cannot seem to take the initiative this time around, so she is the one to press her lips against his, and she is the one to sneak her tongue into his mouth to make sure she remembers his taste even when her body is dust.

"Enjolras," a panicked voice sounds from outside. "Enjolras, hurry!"

They fly apart with a speed that surprises the both of them, and they just stare at each other, breathing heavily, until she sees that the rest of the boys are slow to wake up and that they could not have seen anything.

Some sounds from outside are trying to filter through, and the most important thing she can hear is the sound of many boots coming ever closer. The National Guard is finally making a move, hoping to catch them unawares. Well, they may go down quickly but they will not go down without one hell of a fight.

"Get the guns," Enjolras orders the nearby men, and they follow his orders quickly.

The men rush outside; ready to pay with their lives for believing in something better than this. She stays inside, trying desperately to figure out ways in which she comes out of this alive and failing, clinging to Enjolras' hand as an anchor to the world. This is it; their last moments have arrived, and now she has to choose how to spend them.

"Wait," she speaks as he means to leave.

When he turns, undoubtedly to tell her to let go of his arm, she pulls him down to her level and kisses him with all of the fire and pain and desperation in her blood. Her nails dig into his skin harshly and he presses her into the wall so hard her body will bear bruises when she is buried. They will leave their marks on each other but they will not leave their marks on the world – they will be forgotten.

"Thank you," he tells her as they both step back and try to get their breathing under control again. "Mademoiselle Éponine, thank you."

She smiles at him because she cannot find any words to say to him, and then she rushes outside, ready to bring down as many of these _putains _as she possibly can. If she falls, she will fall, but she will not be the only one. She will take them with her.

e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e

It is the gun pointed at Marius that really makes her jump into the fray. She only means to pull it away from him, but there is no time to yank the musket up into the sky, and she ends up with a bullet in her chest. She is done for, and she knows it. Her final moments have come, and while she wishes that there was more time – it is only because she wishes that she could have helped them all more.

"Éponine," her cap comes off and Marius is with her.

"Monsieur Marius," she smiles at him, because he is finally holding her.

Her eyes catch a hint of gold and she sees Enjolras rushing in her direction as if she is actually important to him. His red coat is a bright light her eyes want to focus on, but they keep slipping closed and the world is starting to blur. Death's greedy hands have found her and they will not let her go – it is over.

"I think I was a little bit in love with you," she mutters, not sure who she is talking to.

Before her eyes fall shut for the last time, she sees gold and red and she dies smiling.

e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e

The battle does not last too long. The hostage is let go by Cosette's father and the National Guard does not stop attacking until they have taken over the barricade.

The deaths come fast then, as the people close the blinds and choose not to see these boys dying for their equal rights. One by one they fall, bodies left on the barricade to be forgotten and abandoned by the people of France. The bald one goes first, having the bad luck to step in the path of a stray bullet – the doctor is devastated but the boys quickly have him firing on his friend's killers.

Faster and faster the schoolboys fall, until there are few of them left. The flowers boy has fallen, the only one left outside the safety of the café – but still not afraid to stand up and face his pursuers. A few of the boys have escaped into the Café, her marble lover being one of them – Marius was cut down by soldiers and then dragged away by the man she knows as Cosette's father. Marius will live.

Her brother is gone though, shot by the Guard for supplying the boys with ammunition when they feared that they were running out. Little Gavroche was shot down without a second thought, and no matter how loudly his friend Courfeyrac protests, the National Guard will not pull back to give them time to take the body away. They killed a harmless little boy and they will be lauded victors and heroes in the history books.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac fall together with the doctor, leaving her lover seemingly alone to face his executioners. Still he stands strong, holding a bright red flag and keeping his head held high in the face of death. His blue eyes are determined, and his golden hair shines brightly in the June sun as the National Guard closes in on him.

It is surprising that the cynic is still alive, but she feels pride when Grantaire stands next to Enjolras and asks her lover permission to die together. She feels even more pride – this time in Enjolras himself – when the man permits it. They stand together as warriors, as equals, holding the flag up high until she watches her lover fall out of a window.

He hangs out of that window, and she lies dead on the barricade – only she is not on that barricade anymore. She is standing at a whole other barricade, one filled with people happily waving flags and singing revolutionary songs. All of the boys are there except for Marius; Gavroche is waving at her from the elephant and he even has Azelma with him – all of the dead are here on this barricade where the world was changed.

A hand slips into hers and she finds her lover at her side, looking exactly how he looked their last night alive – and their only night together. His curls still catch the sunlight in the exact same way, and his eyes burn with the same fiery passion. Enjolras is glorious, leading a revolution instead of a failed rebellion. He is victorious – he has changed the world and now things will be better, because here the people have risen.

Their free and equal France has finally come.

Her lover looks at her, golden hair shining, and there is finally a smile on his face. She smiles back.

AN: Go wish Sabrina a happy birthday as Barriss on Tumblr or as Barriss-Before-It-Was-Cool here! She's awesome!


End file.
